


Crossroads

by Karari



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Break Up, M/M, Nargothrond, Non-Graphic Smut, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karari/pseuds/Karari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrimbor and Orodreth's relationship falls apart when Nargothrond begins to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sleepless_Malice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/gifts).



Celebrimbor pulled his shirt back on and stood from the bed. The garment stuck to his sweaty chest, making him grimace in discomfort, but he ignored and tied the laces of his pants too. His legs were weak in the aftermath of sex, and he felt drowsy, but he didn't want to stay in Orodreth's bedroom for too long. Not anymore. 

“My father once called you a dullard,” he mumbled, almost casually, with his back to the other. 

Orodreth stiffened on the bed, his hands reaching for the sheet which was rumpled at his feet and lifting it to his chest in a sudden burst of self-consciousness. “I kicked your father out of here.”

“He is very good at assessing character,” Celebrimbor went on, following his own train of thought, his eyes fixed on his own hands, almost disbelieving that he had been petting Orodreth's legs while he fucked him so hard Orodreth had nearly been thrown off the bed just moments before.

“He failed to assess you.”

Celebrimbor turned around. He didn't look at Orodreth, but at the jewel-box sitting on a table across the room from where he stood. Orodreth looked in that direction too. The jewel-box had belonged to Finrod, as had the crown resting next to it.

“He failed in that he believed I'd sacrifice myself to his goals, no matter what. But he knows my strengths and my weak points, and I'm beginning to think he was right about you too...uncle.”

Orodreth held his gaze for a moment longer then tossed the sheet aside, and hastily got to his feet. He made for the bathroom, to take a bath and wipe Celebrimbor's scent, sweat and seed off of himself. 

In a couple of strides, Celebrimbor was across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him forcefully. He gave vent to the anger he had been trying to repress ever since the mortal had started spinning tales of futile heroism before the people of Nargothrond. 

“A fucking bridge?” he yelled in Orodreth's face. “Return to you senses! You're doing the bidding of a cursed mortal who will be dead in a handful of years.”

“Better than cowering in the dark, as your father taught us to.”

“That is what has preserved us so far. Build the bridge and you will have Morgoth's minions crawling all over Nargothrond in no time.”

“We will be able to defend ourselves.”

“If you build the bridge, I will leave,” Celebrimbor said slowly, looking straight into Orodreth's eyes. He searched them, hoping to find a glimmer of understanding in them. He found none. “My father's people are still loyal to me. I suppose you do know that quite a few of them have already left, probably to join him again.”

Orodreth leant forward, until his mouth brushed Celebrimbor's. 

“Then you crawl back to him, too, Curufinwion.”

Celebrimbor's hands slid to the back of Orodreth's hair, and pulled, forcing Orodreth's head back. His other hand flitted over cheek. 

“You are no wiser than my father. What you plan to do is madness. Utter foolishness!”

Orodreth shoved him back and dived into the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself. 

________

Ever since Túrin's arrival, life in Nargothrond had become nothing more than dance of moths flocking about a tiny speck of light. Túrin held sway over the town. Finduilas hung on his every word, and Orodreth seemed as smitten as his daughter. Orodreth's own wife had left to go back to her people, in a flurry of rage, taking their son with her. She had wanted to take Finduilas too, but Finduilas wouldn't hear of it, and had parted from her mother in anger. 

Father and daughter could have been under some sort of spell.

Celebrimbor spent most of his days in the smithy, making sword after sword, as if those weapons could have really warded off the danger the town would plunge in once the bridge was completed. Sometimes, he still imagined his father working at his side, brow furrowed and body tense. More often, he wished he could go back in time and try to do more to stop his father. He recalled the words his father had spoken before the people of Nargothrond: they had not been meant to instil fear. They had been weapons, to be sure, but effective because they held truth. His father was shrewd, and had a clear vision of things. The fact that he still pursued his objective doggedly, uncaring who or what would be sacrificed in the process - and even if all his quest amounted to was racing straight towards a precipice - had infuriated Celebrimbor. 

Orodreth was doing the same thing, and he refused to even see. 

Celebrimbor, though vexed and bitter, was reluctant to leave. His liaison with Orodreth hadn't started off as a love affair, the tender, awkward courtship of shy youngsters. Celebrimbor had been lonely, and Orodreth resented Celebrimbor's father enough to try to spite him by sleeping with his son, even betraying his own wife in the process. But their relationship had grown, from the raw intimacy of sex to a sense of belonging, because soon Finrod and Curufin and Celegorm had been gone, and they had been left to pick up the pieces.

Celebrimbor's steps always guided him to Orodreth's bedroom after he left the smithy. There was no more need for secrecy or caution after Orodreth's wife had left, so he strode along low-roofed hallways with his head held high and his boots clicking noisily on the floor. He only looked down as he passed Finrod's forever closed door. 

He entered Orodreth's bedroom without announcing himself, and Orodreth rose to meet him without saying a word. He had been expecting him. 

They undressed each other in silence, their hands in greater accord than their minds. 

“We are building the bridge,” Orodreth said, while he guided Celebrimbor to the bed and sat him down on it, “there will be archers defending it at all times, and it won't be too large.”

Celebrimbor wanted to laugh. “We had archers defending the Pass of Aglon, thrice as many as you have here, mounted on horseback, too. A dragon, or just the right number of orcs and your archers will be trampled on by enemies armed with maces.”

“We will prevent them from even getting close.”

“You are a true fool,” Celebrimbor muttered, dragging his hands down Orodreth's naked sides.

Orodreth opened the clasp at the back of his head, freeing his hair, giving a mirthless smirk at Celebrimbor's insult. He fell to his knees, reaching out for Celebrimbor's cock with both hands. One cupped Celebrimbor's sack, the other stroked his shaft. Celebrimbor sank a hand in his opaque ashen-blond hair, a drab colour in comparison to his older siblings.

They fucked each other with no regards, biting, clawing, painting each other with their seed. When they were both spent, Celebrimbor once again dressed to leave. He retrieved his shirt from the floor and pulled it back on. 

Orodreth sat behind him, staring at his back. “Tomorrow we'll lay the foundations, at the other side of the river.”

“Then I shall go the day after tomorrow.”

Orodreth grasped the hem of Celebrimbor's shirt. 

“Don't go.”

Celebrimbor looked over his shoulder. He recalled his father's last words to him 'you'll never be happy'. He knew that was very likely true, but he would still try to do what he thought was best. He gently peeled Orodreth's fingers away, trying not to look at his clear blue eyes.

“I'm sorry.”


End file.
